


Ablution

by Magnetism_bind



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Bathing/Washing, Emotions, Guilt, Identity Issues, Kissing, M/M, Mentions of canon violence, Post-Finale, Post-Season 4, Reunion Sex, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-16 05:28:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10564554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnetism_bind/pseuds/Magnetism_bind
Summary: James and Thomas take advantage of being alone after they're reunited in Savannah.





	

Flint stared at the bucket of water like it was foreign to him. He had washed since the battle, since the island, but now it felt so long ago, and the journey to Savannah had left him in covered in a faint layer of grime. Still, the effort to wash himself seemed too momentous to make, so he sat there in the quiet of the small cabin he’d been shown to.

Thomas was _alive_. Flint’s lips still tingled from their kisses; he had kissed Thomas. He had held him, and wept in his arms. It was all real, but it still felt like a dream. Silver had sworn it was true, and he had been right. Flint still couldn’t believe it. If it was a dream, the act of dousing himself with cold water would surely wake him up.

He was still sitting there when Thomas opened the door and came inside, closing the door behind him.

“Are you all right?” He touched Flint’s shoulder gently. His hand felt real, but how could Flint trust that?

“I don’t want to wake up.” Flint, James, he didn’t know who he was anymore, whispered.

“Oh, James.” Thomas put his arms on his shoulders, and James, he was James, he hadn’t been James in so long, turned and buried his face in Thomas’s shirt. The linen smelled liked sunshine and grass, and _Thomas_. Could he have dreamed that scent after so long? Could his mind even have conjured that out of the depths of memory to form here in this moment?

“It’s real.” Thomas murmured. “It’s real.”

He sat down on the bed beside James, still holding him tenderly. “I’m real.”

“How can you be?” James said. He felt hollow inside and out, as though lightning had struck him and left him emptied, a wasteland where he had once existed. He couldn’t stop touching Thomas for fear when he stopped to look at him, Thomas would simply vanish before his eyes.

“I assume partly it was my father’s reluctance to have his own son killed, and partly Peter’s cowardice to be responsible for my death.”

“Peter.” James drew back a little. “Peter had a hand in this?”

“After my father’s death, he arranged for me to be brought here.”

“How long were you were there?” Flint swallowed. “How long have you been here?” So close, so agonizingly close? He couldn’t stop thinking about it. If only Miranda and he had known.

“That was a few years into my time at Bedlam.” Thomas’s voice was quiet. “We don’t have to talk about this now.” He reached for the cloth hanging over the bucket handle. “There will be time enough to talk over all the things the last ten years have held.”

He brought the cloth up to Flint’s cheek. “But first…I’d like to see how you look under that layer of dirt.”

In spite of everything, James felt the corners of his mouth twitching slightly. “Much the same, I’m afraid.”

“I see.” Thomas ran the cloth lightly over his cheek and then dipped it into the water again. “Your hair…”

“Your beard.” James countered.

Thomas chuckled and it was such a natural familiar sound, it made James’s heart turn over in his breast.

“I thought it didn’t matter.” Thomas said softly, washing his face gently with even strokes. “Who was there to see me?” The cloth faltered against James’s cheek.

“I’m here.” James said. “I _see_ you.”

He drew Thomas closer to him, clasping him in his arms. He kissed Thomas slowly, taking his time with it, reveling in every trace of his mouth, every brush of his tongue. The feel of Thomas against him was intimate and familiar too. To his astonishment, James felt himself harden.

Thomas broke off with a quiet chuckle. “I see you’ve missed me as much as I’ve missed you.”

“We don’t have to…” James murmured. He missed so much of Thomas, not just the physical, but every aspect, it was hard to reconcile anything was possible now. Was it true? He couldn’t fathom it.

“I have wanted your body next to mine every day for the last ten years.” Thomas murmured as his hand reached between them to touch James. “If you think I’m not going to take advantage of this, you’re gravely mistaken.”

James laughed, and then he groaned, he couldn’t help it, as Thomas stroked him. The effect Thomas had on him, after all these years, it was breathtaking.

“When you say take advantage…” James murmured, his breath hot on Thomas’s skin. He would have been content with just their hands, but the thought of more took his breath away.

“I want you.” Thomas said. “I want you inside me.”

His words melted into James’s  skin, setting him alight. James had dreamed, he had longed, but the reality nearly had him coming undone before they even had a chance to do anything.

Thomas drew back. “If you’re not ready…”

“I want that too.” James told him, loving the way Thomas’s eyes brightened. He wanted to always see that, wanted to be cause of it.

Thomas gazed at him for a long unending moment, like he was realigning personal memories. “Well then.” His hand slipped inside James’s breeches and James groaned in earnest this time, and then cut himself off.

He was suddenly aware of where they were, how on the other side of the wall there were other people beside them in the world. “Can we…” he started, hesitating.

“It doesn’t matter.” Thomas said at the same time.

“Are you sure?” He wanted to savor this time together; he didn’t want it to be interrupted.

“I’m sure.” Thomas was earnest. “Bolt the door.”

The words sent a tremor through James’s body. They were here together; they could do this. He stood, walking stiff-legged to the door and bolting it. They were truly alone.

When James turned around he found Thomas lying back on the pallet, watching him with avid eyes, his focus drawn in to the sight of James’s obvious arousal.

“Come here.” Thomas held out his hand. James went to him and Thomas drew him down beside him. Quickly, their hands fumbling with long overdue desire, they divested each other of their clothing. James felt himself cataloging the changes to Thomas’s body, scars he didn’t know, the slope of his back and the curve of his hips, the way his short beard felt against James’s own, it made his jaw ache with want.

James reached a hand between their legs and nearly spent at the feel of Thomas there against his skin.

“James.” Thomas’s voice was rough. “I need you.”

James looked around the room. There was nothing but lamp oil. He looked apologetically at Thomas, Thomas who always had the finest scented oils for their personal use in their home in London.

“It’s a bit crude,” Thomas admitted, “But it will work all the same.”

“If you’re sure.” James started again.

“I’m sure.” Thomas reached for the oil.

He pressed James, naked now, down upon his back as he straddled him. James laid there, gazing up at him. Golden-haired Thomas with his beard and the lines of his face, his face still so kind, despite the horrors they’ve both been through. Was he truly the same underneath that beauty?

Beneath him, Flint found himself, a shadowed creature, a mottled and horrible thing. How could he dream of touching Thomas?

“James…James?” Thomas leaned down, murmuring his name until James gazed back up at him. “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not true.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I _know_ that look.” Thomas’s voice was patient, and wry. “You used to wear it in London when you were under the impression that you didn’t deserve happiness. If I recall correctly, it took a good deal of persuading to convince you otherwise.”

Flint looked away, the bile of guilt and shame still welling up in his gut. Guilt for leaving Thomas all these years, shame for his past self, for not being proud of having been his lover. Shame of being ashamed. Was there ever a more wretched thing?

Thomas placed his hand on his jaw, turning his head back to face him. “If I have to convince you all over again, I will do so.”

Flint gazed up at him, tears pricking at his eyes.

Thomas sat back on his thighs, still gazing at him. He was still unashamed, still beautiful, and somehow he still wanted James. The hardness of his cock spoke to that, his hands resting patiently on his thighs, the look in his eyes loving and considerate even now. Even now, after everything.

 James stared up at him with wonder.

 “Kiss me.” Thomas said.

So James leaned up and kissed him. Thomas let it deepen until James pressed full against him in his eagerness. Only then did Thomas nudge him back down upon the pallet.

Thomas ran his hand into the oil and slicked his finger. “Watch me.”

James swallowed thickly at the sight. He used to love this, watching Thomas work himself open for _him._ Now he could barely believe it was happening again.

Thomas’s breath came faster as he eased a finger into himself, breathing in short tight pants. His stomach was taut with the effort of it, and James leaned up a little to press a kiss to the side of his torso as Thomas often had for him. The smile that Thomas gave him showed James wasn’t the only one to remember that time.

Thomas pressed a second finger into him and James gazed mesmerized at his fingers working in and out of his own body.

“Lie down.” Thomas straddled him once more as he painstakingly slicked James’s cock with oil.

The sensations sent a cool shudder through James and then Thomas sank down upon him and he shattered.

His body moved in rhythm with Thomas, Thomas rose above him, like the sun. He was alive, he was distant, like a falling star, his hands caught at Thomas’s body, anchoring him to his own flesh, holding on tight for fear he would lose him in the swell. He was the sea, on a stormy day, the raging turmoil of the waves rising and falling, and then he was lying there in the warmth of the pallet, holding Thomas against him, Thomas drawing him up so that he was practically sitting in James’s lap, as he rode James’s cock.

James gazed into his eyes and Thomas gazed back, his mouth sought James’s, urgent in its need to kiss and be kissed.

 “I love you,” Thomas whispered and James caught his words on his tongue and whispered them back to him.

 *  *  *

When James opened his eyes, they were lying side by side on the pallet. Thomas had a leg over James’s thigh, an arm over his chest. His eyes were half-closed, a look of contentment on his face. James had never seen a more beautiful sight.

“This is what I’ve dreamed of.” Thomas murmured drowsily. “For so long.”

James murmured something in response. Now that the haze had faded, everything was returning. He turned his head away, gazing at the wall, studying the wooden slats. He felt Thomas turn to look at him.

“I know you’ve done things you don’t want to speak of, or even think of.” Thomas spoke at last in the half grey silence. “I know you feel things have changed too much.”

“How _can_ you know?” James’s voice was a ghost. How could Thomas still be so certain after all this time?

“I’ve done things…” Thomas started, and James’s laugh was bitter and quick. Nothing Thomas could have done would possibly compare to the blood on his hands.

Thomas rolled full over on his side to give him a stern gaze.

James tried not to look at it, but he did, and Christ, how he wanted to laugh. Thomas would make that face at times when James was being too serious in their conversations, trying to remember his place, and every time he would laugh in spite of his firm resolution not to.

And here was Thomas using it on him again. He felt his lips twitch further. “Don’t.”

“Can we agree that there are things in each other’s past that we will both never truly know…Shadows that no matter how much we try to lighten, some will remain?”

 _What shadows do you hold?_ James wanted to ask, but couldn’t bring himself to.

“I fear my sins are far greater than yours.” He hated how small his voice sounded.

“And I fear you will never let yourself simply breathe and be here with me.”

James turned his head to look at him. “How are you so calm? How are you able to accept this isn’t a dream? A fantasy that will vanish if we take one misstep?” _If I take one misstep_ , he thought.

“Because I don’t believe that’s how life exists.” Thomas answered. “For whatever terrible reason, we were separated. And we survived that. “ His hand touched James’s shoulder. “And now, fate, or a miracle, however you choose to think of it, has brought us together once more. I like to think of it as the universe righting a grave wrong.” He leaned in to kissed James’s shoulder. “I let myself be parted from you once. I won’t do so again.”

He kissed James fiercely with startling strength, that gave credence to his words. And James let himself be kissed and held as he thought about that. The universe righting a wrong. Even though he had done so many things, killed those who hadn’t deserved it, killed those who had…All the deeds he had done. All the acts he regretted, and didn’t.

And here he was. Flint. James McGraw. Whatever man he was, he was here, in this moment with Thomas.

Thomas’s arms tightened around him, his front molded to James’s back. “My dearest love.” He kissed the back of James’s neck, then rested his chin on James’s shoulder. “I know it will take time.”

Yes, James thought. It would take time. But for the first time in years, the thought of the future didn’t terrify him. He had no idea what it held now, now that his mission of war and vengeance had been stripped away from him. Silver had done that; Silver had given him this. For the first time, James thought, _I need to thank him._ For here he was. It was true, Thomas held him and they had time. Time enough to discover what the future held next. Time to breathe, to live, to love.

He closed his eyes and let himself rest, finally at peace, in Thomas’s arms.


End file.
